Her face hardened for a moment. “I feel differently now. Honest, Max, this trip, I think it’s been good for me. I’ve had a lot of time to think. I want to go back and maybe apply for some jobs. Magazines. Fashion houses. You were right.”

“That sounds wonderful, dear,” Clara said.

“What’s going on?” Max said. “When did all this happen?”

“This week,” Alma said, and pointed to her temple. “Up here.”

He still seemed confused. He made to say something, then stopped. “Well, if you’re set on it,” he said.

“I am. I’ll just go up and pack my things. I can stay for lunch.”

“I’m not sure when the last train leaves,” Clara said. “You might want to get to the station before then.”

Alma gave her an even look.

“I’ll drive you,” Max said.

“It’s not a long walk,” Alma said.

“Alma. I’m not going to let you drag your suitcase across town. I’ll drive you.”

“I hate to see you go,” Henry said.

So she was doing it. She was setting it in motion already. Max would take her to the station, and she’d make the walk back to the Victorian house, where she would wait for him, her valise all packed. It was happening too fast, and he felt disoriented and outside of himself. He was already trembling with nerves. But it would take nothing to set off this cataclysm—the simplest of actions. All he’d have to do is go outside and walk, meet her, and keep on walking. Under cover of night. They’d go back to the station and wait. She’d know the timetable. The train would arrive, they’d get onto it, and then they’d be on their way to New York.

She came downstairs with her little valise. Under her arm she held her drawing pad with his picture in it. She set them both down at the bottom of the stairs. For travel she’d put on heels and stockings, she’d put her makeup on, and from her neck hung a small pendant with a blue gem in it. She looked pretty and respectable. Like someone he could bring home to his mother.

They said their farewells. A cursory hug from Clara, a warm embrace from Effie. She hugged Henry last, a quick, friendly goodbye.

“I hope we’ll meet again sometime,” she said to them both.

“We’ll look you up—you and your brother—if we’re ever in New York,” Effie said.

“Yes, please.”

She took up her valise and drawing pad and followed Max out the door.

“Sweet relief!” Clara cried when they were gone. “I feel like the clouds have parted.”

“You’re terrible,” Effie said. “I like her. She’s … cool.”